“Then—he is not here?”
“No,” returned Bob. He did not think it wise to add that George Seabury had been injured by a rhino. “He couldn’t come with us, but we promised to be on watch for you.”
The man reeled as if to fall. Then he got a grip on himself.
“At last,” he murmured, breathing heavily, “I have seen a white person.”
“Were you lost?” inquired Joe.
“Lost, yes. And worse than lost,” returned Mr. Seabury grimly. “I was captured by hostile savages and was about to be sacrificed in their horrid rites. But I managed to slip off in the night and escape from their village. It was a horrible experience—wandering through this trackless forest. I had given myself up for lost when I happened to find this hut. Who built it I do not know. But it had food stored away, and I ate it at once.”
“How long have you been here?” asked Joe. “In this vicinity, I mean.”
“Only two days,” Seabury replied. “Though it seems more like two years. I held not the slightest hope of seeing any white person. In fact, I fully expected to die a slow death from hunger. But now,” he continued in a lighter tone, “I am saved.”
“It was just luck that we found you,” Bob said. “My friend here—— Wait. Pardon us for not introducing ourselves. This is Joe Lewis, and my name is Holton—Bob Holton.”